I had 300,000 shillings left in my M-Pesa, a wife who wanted to go back to Kisii, a one-year-old baby, and a landlord who knocked every 5th of the month asking for 13,000.
I had lost my job in Nairobi. My friends stopped picking my calls. The only thing I owned was a dream that refused to die.
My wife said, "Let's go home ." I said, "What will we do there?" She said, "We will live." For the first time, she was right.
I took the last matatu to Kisii with 200,000 shillings in my pocket and left 100,000 for food. In Home, my father gave me a small corner of his shamba. The fundi there said, "With 200k, I can give you two bedrooms."
In fourteen days, a house stood. It was not a mansion. It was mabati. When it rained, it was loud. When the sun was hot, it was hot. But it was mine. There was no landlord.
The first night we slept there, my wife held my hand and said, "We are home." My baby slept on the floor, and for the first time in months, I also slept.
I started selling shoes from that small house. I posted photos on WhatsApp status. I delivered to Keroka, to Kisii town, to Nyamira. In one month I made 30,000. Not much, but there was no rent to pay. The 30,000 was profit.
Sometimes God does not give you what you want. He gives you what you need - a small house in the hills, a wife who followed you, and a reason to wake up.
It doesn't matter where you start. What matters is that you start.